


Night Terrors

by domesticheart



Category: Homestuck, Jekyll (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Attempted Murder, Scary situations, Some Descriptions of Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-26
Updated: 2015-06-26
Packaged: 2018-04-06 06:53:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4212165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/domesticheart/pseuds/domesticheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roxy makes a deadly mistake, but luckily Jane arrives just in time to save the day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Night Terrors

**Author's Note:**

> I claim no rights to either of the works used in this crossover.

The evening was dark, damp underfoot and slightly balmy. Roxy could already feel her hair beginning to curl in places where it wasn't supposed to curl, really, and upon sniffing the front of her shirt concluded that she should probably not stay outdoors much longer or risk soaking her nice shirt through. She looked along the lonely street, the grey drizzle becoming more pronounced under the orange light of the street lamps. Not many were out and about at this late hour, mostly because of the foul weather but also because of the reports of strange killings.

Well, they were not strange murders, so to speak, just inhumanly brutal. Most victims were torn limb from limb, their skin nearly stripped off in places and marked with jagged scratches. In the newspapers, yellow and the norm, it had been stated by those investigating the case that the terrible acts were committed by hand, human hands, although there was no way to forensically determine who it was. No matches were found in their databanks, either, so she assumed it must have been a fairly new criminal. There were no suspected family members, no telling cues of those nearby shop-owners who had been questioned, not even a pip from anyone who might have been wandering about that night. With limited and blurry video footage, all that could be concluded was that the murderer, or at least the person who had been nearby around the time when they occurred, was male, and only a handful of those attacked were female. Still, it was an uncomfortable thought, strolling down the street on a foggy afternoon, and so Roxy dropped into one of her frequent haunts.

She hadn't been drinking much anymore, having mostly gotten off alcohol at Jane's urging and her other friends' half-joking threats about spilling things on their nice carpet. Her boss, too, hadn't been all that happy with her rapid utilization of sick days. But, she supposed that she could have a harmless sip to calm her nerves. Just that, nothing more. Maybe a few sips afterwards for old time's sake, and Roxy is _so_ all about keeping to her traditions.

The place is warm and cozy as she enters, other patrons entirely non-threatening and enjoying good company and drinks. There are even a few families tucked into corners to keep out of the rain, along with a handful of tourists in matching shirts and young couples. Roxy keeps mostly to herself and settles at the wooden bar, ordering herself something strong and without a lasting or favorable taste. Just something to send a warm buzz to her toes after getting her socks wet in a puddle.

Digging around in her jacket pockets for her mobile, Roxy decides to text Jane and ask if she would like to join her. For some reason, she thinks it would ease her conscience a lot. They have been working together on casework for what seems like years although it has only been just under ten months. Still, they have grown very close, even though they had officially met years before, and Roxy has stayed over at Jane's house more times than she can count on both her hands and feet. Being god-tier and going incognito is kinda rough, mostly because you can't just poof out of places and teleport around or manifest your strife specibi out of nowhere, and they hadn't hung around much until Jane had asked if Roxy might like to help her out with her whole Sherlock Holmes-y bit. Jane always loved that mysterious, murder-solving stuff.

Seconds later she gets a quick reply in the affirmative, but Jane also mentions that she has some paperwork left to do back in the investigations office and may be late. Roxy says that would be just fine and then tucks the phone back into her pocket, waiting for someone to ask her what she would like to drink.

A fire burns inside of a brick-lain hearth that was built before the place ever became a pub and was a homely residence instead. Roxy watches the flames lick over the blacked logs, charred and ashen splinters prickling off in chunks. The barkeep approaches, and she asks for something that will warm her up a little but not knock her off her feet. He nods, understanding that she has had a long day and most likely just wants a small comfort to bring her out of the dumps. Just like before she went and sobered up, only she's fairly certain that Janey has had a word with him about Roxy's drinking problem since then despite her commitment.

Once her drink had arrived, Roxy began to ponder the kind of motivation that might be behind the murders, taking a ponderous sip of something that tasted sort of fruity. They were almost animalistic, but there was certainly a personality behind it. A volatile one, at that, ruthless and intelligent in the choosing of a time and place in which to carry them out. It's frightening, to think that there is someone out there who could carry out such horrible acts, and Roxy clutches the glass tightly between her whitened knuckles, finding comfort in the cool dew dripping down the side of the glass.

She is hardly paying attention when someone settles next to her at the bar, she is so caught up in her thoughts, speaking jovially towards the bartender, teeth gleaming like a waning sliver of moonlight and eyes dark. Roxy is startled out of her thoughts when a smooth voice intercedes into her thoughts, and she looks away from where she had been staring into space to look at them. "Hello, dovey."

The man was sort of handsome, with dark hair and a toothy, wide grin. Also, his accent seemed to be Irish or something similar. Roxy wasn't particularly skilled in naming people's birthplaces at the drop of a hat based on their voices like Jane was, but she had a good feeling about this one. He seemed friendly enough, head canted to the side in an attentive stare, so Roxy smiled back. She'd always been more than willing to make new acquaintances, having partied most of the time during her university years. "Hi! Uh, I'm actually waiting for a friend. She doesn't get out much, so I'm trying to bring her out into the real world for a bit," She laughed nervously a little, a small hiccup, realizing that she might have been giving out a little too much information.

He didn't seem altogether that bothered, and instead leaned an arm on the bar, settling his tilted head on his hand and gazing back at her, still smiling. His grin grew wider when she had giggled girlishly, a bit unsettlingly and maybe sort of sharp, but Roxy brushed any suspicious thoughts aside. "Aw, that's nice of you," he murmurs, secretively and more than a little flirtatious. Roxy could almost swoon. "D'you think she'll show up for a while yet? I was going to pip out for a smoke just now, and I'd sure enjoy some lovely company. You wouldn't be opposed to that, now would you?"

"Not really, nope," Roxy giggles, gears turning furiously at the back of her mind on how to get Jane to approve of this sharply-dressed man. She's always had a thing for guys in really good, dark suits, although his is worn a tad around the edges. Nothing wrong with that, she likes the rouge look, after all.

The man stands first, and Roxy is surprised by how lean and well-muscled he is, trying not to seem as if she's staring. In the privacy of her own mind, she wolf-whistles, and thinks that Jane would probably agree with her. Dirk, too. Maybe Jakey, if he weren't so oblivious to this kind of thing 99.9% of the time. Things are going great, and Roxy follows him out into the evening air through a side doorway. It leads into an alley, beside slimy, littered dumpsters with green paint chipping off their sides, revealing the plain grey underneath.

They stand there for a while in uncomfortable silence, the light of the streetlamps breaking through the misty blue gloom, but the guy hasn't taken a cigarette out yet. Roxy eyes him up out of the corner of her eye, only just now becoming truly apprehensive of his intentions. One moment he's looking off into a direction that leads to absolutely nowhere, and the next his head has snapped back to her, far too fast to be altogether human. For the first time, she notices just how dark his eyes are, like rounded pits of black that draw her in. His grin, which had once seemed welcoming and almost submissive, gains a predatory quality, like the incisors of a lion baring at her. In the next instant, the illusion is gone, but he still maintains that unstable, erratic look. Roxy takes a hasty step backwards, a voice at the back of her head that sounds just like Jane screaming at her to run.

She tries to, she really does, but he grabs her before she can even get three steps away, hands locked firmly around her wrists in a painful grip. Roxy finds that she cannot even make a sound, too paralyzed with fear and her desperate attempts getting lodged in her throat.

His nails, claws dig into her skin. "You're one of those investigators who's looking into my little operations, aren't you? Lovely one, aren't you— don't lie to me, now, or I might just have to crush that pretty skull of yours in."

Roxy can hardly even form words, and they all come out broken and nonsensical in her terror. She shakes her head wildly, hair clinging to her face in a cold sweat. The man, or thing, whatever he is, grins wider at her, chuckling, only his eyes are filled with a burning hatred.

With his next words, his teeth snap right in front of her nose, and Roxy flinches backwards and cracks her head against the brick wall. Red and purple spots dance across her vision, stars going supernovae inside of her skull in painful white showers of light. "Oh, you're lying to me, is that it?" he spits into her face, enraged, grin finally turning into something more sinister. "I suppose I'll just have to—"

A loud crack rings out, a gunshot, and Roxy watches in numb terror as a dark stain spreads across the man's shirt. Instead of falling to the ground in a heap, dead as she would have liked, he shoves her aside roughly, furiously turning to face whoever has shot him. Roxy, too, looks up at her savior, and almost weeps when she sees who it is, a smoking pistol in their hand.

Jane. Good ole Jane, always looking out for her. She's a real foxy lady, that one, curly hair all dolled up and looking mighty fine. Roxy'd done good in coming to be BFFsies 4Evers with her. 

But, now this guy is striding towards her, gait loping and slow like that of a wolf, and Roxy feels terrified and helpless. She could take out her sweet gun, but that's proven to already be nigh ineffectual. Also, he has murdered people, and wouldn't hesitate to do it again, she's sure. She doesn't have to think too much along that strain of thought as Jane advances towards him as well, red, over-sized forkkind appearing in her hand. Oh. Oh, _shit._ Things are going down. Jane's about to wipe the floor with this guy, and then sweep up her kitchen tiles for good measure.

Jane stalks forward purposefully, cyan blue eyes narrowed and jaw clenched. The demented man, if he even was a man, lurched towards her in a dark flash, and Roxy feels the air stir as he rushes Jane with remarkable speed. She feels like she can't watch this, and keeps her eyes open just a bit to peer at the fight through her eyelashes. Just in case things get bad, is all.

With a sharp crack, Jane brings up her fork and lets him collide with it head-on, dropping to the side in a crouch and doing a wide hop-skip around him. The creature whirls on her, eyes glowering and face stretched into an aggressive snarl as he tries to reach for her again, looking like he is about to say something nasty only to be interrupted when he is once again struck with the fork. He stumbles, blood streaking down the side of his face, before miraculously shaking it off.

He charges at Jane, who backpaces a few steps before easily dancing around him, sliding the prongs of the trident just below his knees to trip him up. Only, he doesn't trip, instead twisting his body midair and latching onto Janey's arm, trying and failing in dragging her down onto the ground with him in a crumpled pile. Jane's stance is strong, feet planted firmly upon the ground, and so she mostly just leans a bit in his direction before wrenching her arm free. 

Before he can make another move, Jane swings her trident in a wide arc, the cool, grooved metal plowing into his side and sending him flying. He lands a fair distance away, catching himself on the wall and pulling himself to his feet, and Jane doesn't move to go towards him, instead choosing to stand an observe. That's the scary thing about Jane; one minute she's roiling with emotion, and the next she's all cool and calculating and smoother than water sliding across a duck's back. Roxy's surprised that she doesn't make a 'bring it, bitch' hand gesture.

The deranged creature takes a step towards them, tilting his head to the side to gaze intently, first at Jane and then Roxy. Then, he takes a step back, makes a frustrated noise like a beast deprived of its kill, and turns on his heel to take off like a shot into the night.

Jane turns to Roxy, blinks a few times at her. Roxy blinks back, bewildered. A slow, buck-toothed grin spreads across Jane's face then, and she raises her fork into the air to show off the blood trickling down the side.

"Blood samples and two reliable physical descriptions," she says, pleased with herself.

**Author's Note:**

> Go watch Jekyll. Seriously, that show is freakin' terrifying.


End file.
